


Left Behind

by ltgarrix (phoenix316)



Category: Farscape
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-15
Updated: 2014-07-15
Packaged: 2018-02-09 00:02:46
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,936
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1961238
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/phoenix316/pseuds/ltgarrix
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>What happens to John when he's left behind after Moya is sucked through a wormhole at the end of <i>Bad Timing</i>?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Left Behind

Gone.

Moya was gone. Gobbled up a wormhole – a wormhole that appeared out of nowhere. There had been no indications that there were wormholes in this part of space. There was no solar activity that would create a wormhole. It had appeared right in front of Moya as though someone – something was controlling it. And that scared John.

As far as he knew, there were only two species that had any knowledge about wormholes. One was the Ancients, but why would they want Moya? From what Rygel had said, the Ancients had gone on to their new home. It could have been the Pathfinders. John supposed that it had been possible they had learned what had happened to their expedition and had come after Moya. He really hoped that wasn't the case. Considering Neela feared for her family's life, he wasn't sure what they would do with Moya.

Of greater importance was his predicament. He had stayed out in space almost as long as his fuel would last, hoping that Aeryn would have a change of heart and return. She didn't and right as he was about to return to Moya and go after her, Moya disappeared.

Now he had no idea what he would do. His fuel was nearly exhausted, and he knew that he couldn't make it to an inhabitable planet. The only choice he had was to move closer to the Leviathan burial ground and hope for the best. Maybe another Leviathan would show up and take pity on him. Or even better, Moya might return.

*************

Time passed, though John had stopped paying attention to it. He did everything he could to conserve his air. He hadn't seen anything either visually or one his admittedly limited sensors that indicated there was anything alive other than him. And soon enough he would be joining those poor dead Leviathans.

He thought he was hallucinating when she saw something fly over his module. He couldn't make anything out from the lack of oxygen, but something had definitely flown over. Unable to muster the energy to activate his comms, he prayed that they had detected his life signs and would rescue him.

His last conscious thought was one of thanks as he felt his module moving. At this point, he didn't care who was rescuing him as long as they breathed oxygen.

*************

Slowly his vision returned. "Where… Wha…" Looking around he noticed he was still strapped into his module, but somehow the hatch was open. He must have activated it before he passed out because he didn't see anyone around him.

Taking in his surroundings, he surmised that he was on a Leviathan, but one in pretty bad shape. It was very dark and the air had a stale quality to it. "Pilot?" he called out in a hoarse voice. After clearing his throat, he tried again. "Pilot?" Again no answer. "Great. The Leviathan picked me up and died."

Carefully he extracted himself from his module, trying hard not to stumble and fall after having been in the confined space for so long. Once he was stable on his feet, he decided to check the Den and see if he was right. If the Leviathan had died on him, he supposed it was large enough that he should have enough time to look for food and supplies and possibly a transport pod, which would have longer range than his module, before his air ran out, though he would have to find a way to tow his module.

Entering the den, his first thought was that he was right. The Pilot was very old and certainly did not look alive. Then one of the Pilot's claws twitched. "Good. Not dead, but probably not far from it." Walking towards the console, he called out, "Hey, Pilot? You with me?"

"Wh-what? Oh!" The Pilot woke up and tried to focus on him.

"Lady Pilot," John half-whispered to himself. "How are you doing?" he asked as he leaned against her console.

"Who are you?" she asked in a weak voice.

"I was in the ship you brought onboard. You and your Leviathan saved me." He made sure to speak loudly because he suspected she was half deaf.

Her voice sounded as though it had not been used in quite a while. "Elack. His name is Elack. We knew that we could not leave you out there to die, but I fear we have only delayed that for you. Elack and I… we have come here to die." Her body trembled as though with palsy.

"Yeah. I kind of gathered that. You wouldn't happen to have a transport pod onboard, would you?" He knew it was irrational to get his hopes up. What he had seen of Elack led him to believe that anything of value was already gone.

"No, I'm sorry. There is not much left onboard. It has been a long time since Elack could grow a pod," she sounded regretful at delivering this bad news.

"How about DRDs? Any of those?" He hadn't seen any, but they might have been busy elsewhere.

"They have… shut down. I… we are unable to control them. As a Leviathan dies, the systems shut down. Atmosphere and navigation are about all that I still have control over."

John wasn't thrilled about this, but beggars could not be choosey. "Well, that's a good thing. No comms I suppose?" He didn't think that Moya or the others would still be in range, but it couldn’t hurt to try.

"Only short range. We do not have enough power for anything more."

Noticing her discomfort, he placed a hand on her claw to reassure her. "Don't worry about it. I understand that Elack isn't fully operational, and I thank you both for bringing me onboard." He wasn't sure how to ask how long Elack had, but he wasn't sure he wanted to know either. "How about supplies?"

"There are some remaining onboard. I can try to access manifests, but they may not be up to date because the DRDs shut down before the crew left, and I do not know what they took with them."

Pushing off the console, he said, "Thank you, your Ladyship. While you're doing that, I think I'll look around. I have a Leviathan comms badge you can reach me on when you find it, so take your time." He didn't want to sound pushy. She was weak and he didn't want to push her.

"I shall do so. But, how shall I address you?"

He realized that he hadn't told her his name. "I'm Commander John Crichton." He wasn't sure why he gave her his title, but it sounded right, like it might comfort her.

"Peacekeeper?" she sounded shocked.

"No, no. Nothing to do with them. Human. You haven't heard of us. Don't worry about it. Thanks to you and Elack again," he said before departing the den.

Once again, he wished he had paper. He wasn't sure how long he was going to be here, and he wanted to take inventory of everything that might be useful. Trying to decide the best way to do things, he decided that he would collect everything that was useful into the maintenance bay off the hangar. Food would be his first priority and anything else that was useful he would leave in the passageways to come back for later. As large as Elack was, it could take him several days to go through hall the chambers. But it wasn't like he had anything better to do.

*************

After two days of collecting anything that might be useful, some of it with Pilot's help, he was ready for the long haul. While her manifest showed many things that were gone, there were still quite a few useful items that had been left onboard, items he might not have found without her assistance.

Rather than moving into one of the many sets of quarters, he had decided to set up a sleeping area in the maintenance bay. He wanted to reduce the amount of space he took up on Elack because he didn't want to tax the old Leviathan. Now that he was ready with several months' worth of supplies, he decided it was time to have that conversation with Pilot.

As he walked to her den, he scratched at his face. This was the worst part about growing out a beard because it was very itchy. Unfortunately something to shave with had not been one of the items he had found. Rather than calling out to her when he entered the den, he walked up to her and climbed on the console. "Pilot, I have a serious question for you."

"Go ahead, Commander," she replied.

It was very awkward to ask someone when they were going to die. "I know that you said you and Elack came here to die because he's so old. I'm a bit curious as to how the two of you are doing. I mean, I appreciate the hospitality, but…"

"You would like to know how much time you have left," she finished. "Elack had planned on shutting down once we made it here, but he will maintain life for as long as possible with you onboard. I am sorry that I do not have a better answer."

John had expected something more than that. "Can you give a rough estimate? Do I have just a few days or longer, maybe months?" She gave him a look of confusion at the word, as happened to him quite a bit since his arrival through the wormhole. "A quarter of a cycle maybe?"

"We will do the best we can," she said in her weak voice, not really providing an answer.

He patted her claw. "That's all I can ask." It wasn't what he wanted to hear, but he didn't want to seem rude. "I'm going to see if I can come up with some fuel for my ship. That way if someone else comes I'll be able to go to them and worst case try to reach another planet."

"I understand. If there is anything we can do for you, please let us know."

He smiled sadly at the elderly pilot – helpful until the bitter end. "I will."

As he walked back to his makeshift home in the maintenance bay, he found himself wishing for a chemistry book. Though human chemistry didn't cover most of the things he had run across out here.

Over the last two days, he had tried talking to Pilot over the comms, but she seemed to drift in and out of consciousness and wasn't much of a conversationalist. He had seen a few dormant DRDs in his wanders and decided to tinker with one and see if he could get it operational. It wouldn't provide conversation, but could provide him companionship, much like his dogs had. And DRDs were incredibly useful for building and repairing things, and he could definitely use help with that since he would have to manufacture fuel for his module. This was going to be a painful experience, especially if help didn't arrive.

He would do what he could to make the best of it. If Pilot was able, he knew that Moya would return and he would be here waiting for them.

  
Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters and settings are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. No money is being made from this work. No copyright infringement is intended.

This story archived at <http://www.craisie.com/efiction/viewstory.php?sid=113>  



End file.
